


well hidden ways

by BoxOnTheNile



Series: To the Names of Our Wounds [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Lolix Fanclub Holiday Xchange, M/M, Merc Trilogy Era, reusing that tag because it's still the server and still a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: There exists, in both a frame hanging in a family home and in the depths of data drive, a photo. It’s not professional, not groundbreaking, though one could argue it was beautiful; a man holding a paper cup, gesturing wildly as though telling a story. Another man watches, eyes soft and adoring, reaching to take the cup before it spills.





	well hidden ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AntsySerpentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntsySerpentine/gifts).



> HI SAM I'M YOUR GIFT-ER AND I LOVE YOU!
> 
> This is canon for wound'verse(Back to the Light).

_there'll be space for you always in my harmony_  
_though i never knew this before._  
_every note, "i love you, " no matter the chord_  
_that's all any love song is for_

_-To My Valentine by SJ Tucker_

 

* * *

_There exists, in both a frame hanging in a family home and in the depths of data drive, a photo. It’s not professional, not groundbreaking, though one could argue it was beautiful; a man holding a paper cup, gesturing wildly as though telling a story. Another man watches, eyes soft and adoring, reaching to take the cup before it spills._

_On the back of the physical copy, there is a handwritten note: Sam and Isaac, October 6th._

 

* * *

 

The barista took their orders with friendly smile and long-suffering eyes. They weren’t too complicated—a flat white and a london fog, half sweet—but the person in front of them had rattled off an order that made the two of them cringe.

“Their nametag was written in the same colors as your pin,” Isaac said as they stepped away from the counter, nudging his partner with his elbow.

Sam absently reached to adjust the little enamel pride flag pinned under his scarf, a gift from the man next to him. “I noticed.”

The bell on the door jangled, and Sam and Isaac both glanced for the door. A woman ducked past her husband to rush to their side and wrap her arms around Isaac’s chest. “You made it,” she said excitedly.

“‘Course we did, Megs, we missed you too.”

Megan peeled herself off him to pull Sam into a hug of his own. “Mason has been hovering relentlessly since we got the news,” she said, rolling her eyes.

All three of them, in a deep seated human instinct, reached to touch her belly. 

“Isaac, Sam!” the barista called. Isaac darted off to pick up their drinks. 

“How are you two?” Megan asked. “You dropped off the map until your bounty hunting… business took off.”

Sam chatted with her until Isaac returned with Mason in tow. “London Fog,” Isaac said, passing over a paper cup to Sam. 

“And a snickerdoodle hot cocoa,” Mason told his wife, handing her a cup of her own.

“Snickerdoodle?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip. Sam began gently herding them out of the Starbucks.

“It sounded good? And the doctors said no caffeine and even decaf coffee has a little so I—”

“It’s good, honey,” Megan interrupted. 

“Doctors?” Sam asked softly, holding the door open for his companions. 

Megan tightened her scarf against the October chill. “My family has a history of difficult pregnancies, and with how long we’ve been trying, we figured better safe than sorry.”

Sam immediately pulled the knit hat from his head and deposited it on Megan’s. She sticks out her tongue at him. Mason leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she pouted. 

They headed to the park nearby, Isaac and Sam catching up on Megan’s new medical concerns and the Wus grilling them on recent events. It was an easy domesticity none of them were ashamed to admit they missed.

Megan started lagging behind after a while, tiring faster than usual, and Mason adjusted pace to stay at her side. Isaac and Sam ended up several feet ahead, Isaac telling a story, waving his arms as he spoke. Sam watched him with a quiet adoration, eventually reaching to take his cup before Isaac lost his grip and flung it into the bushes.

There was an electronic shutter snap, and the two of them turned to see Megan holding her phone up.

“Oops!” she said brightly.

 

* * *

 

_There exists a picture in a digital album in a family home. It’s slightly blurry, but no less beautiful than the last—the same two men, Isaac with his hands on Sam’s jaw, kissing him softly. They stand in the middle of a kitchen, tiny and barren, surrounded by boxes, the evening sun bathing them in red-gold light. The time stamp reads: March 12th._

 

* * *

 

Sam looked up from where he was putting away silverware as Isaac came skidding across the kitchen laminate in his socks. He hit a rough patch and inertia carried him forward; Sam twisted ‘round to catch his partner before he fell to the floor.

“Hey babe,” Isaac said, eyes glittering with giddy excitement. “We have a bed.”

“I should hope so,” Sam replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a tiny smile. “I mean, a bedroom is called that for a reason.”

“No, no, _Sam._ ” Isaac reached up to hold Sam’s face. “We have a _bed_. In _our_ apartment. We have a bed and a couch and _forks_.” He pointed at the drawer Sam had just been organizing.

“I know,” Sam said with a hushed awe. He had never had a space of his own before, going from sharing with cousins to army barracks to the Wu’s guest bedroom. He supposed this wasn’t technically all to himself either, with Isaac there, but with Isaac being his heart did it really count?

And standing there, in their kitchen, surrounded by boxes full of things they’d collected bit by bit for the past two years, he didn’t really think it did.

“Isaac, there’s work to do.” Megan crossed into the kitchen from the front room, balancing a cardboard box on her hip. “If the bed is set up, you can put sheets on it so you have somewhere to sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec. Mason’s in the bathroom hitting our water heater with a wrench.”

“I’m not hitting shit!” came from further in. Megan rolled her eyes fondly and padded off to find her husband. Isaac bounced energetically on his toes. “We have an apartment. With a, a fuckin’ _lease_. With our _names._ ”

“That we had a lawyer look at, like real proper adults,” Sam added. It helped that the lawyer was their friend.

Isaac kissed him, excited and chaste. Sam’s hand settled on Isaac’s waist, and for a moment, they were the only two people on Ithaca. They didn’t notice Megan snap a photo on her phone, and didn’t know about it until she gave them a framed copy with a note.

_‘First kiss in the new place! <3’_

 

* * *

 

_There is one final photo, in a simple frame on an attorney's desk, of a small family. It sits in a place of honor next to picture of a young girl, but the glass is smudged, as though it is often picked up and examined._

_The photo is the only professional picture ever taken of Sam and Isaac. They, of course, are anything but professional. Isaac has climbed onto Sam’s back, chin resting on the top of his head, as Megan laughs hard enough that her husband must support her._

_There is another copy, oft folded, the edges worn soft. It rests tucked under the mattress of a bunk on an alien ship, a prized possession, a relic of a time long gone._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it, sam!


End file.
